Hit Me Again, I Dare You
by SuperGirlWrites
Summary: AU. Eventual Kataang. When Roku high school senior, Aang Sora, was a little boy he often dreamt of being a superhero. As he grows up, this dream becomes stronger but more unreachable. One day he ends up in a tragic accident that leads to that surprising result. Be careful what you wish for…
1. Prologue

**Summary:** Eventual Kataang. When Roku high school senior, Aang Sora, was a little boy he often dreamt of being a superhero. As he grows up, this dream becomes stronger but more unreachable. One day he ends up in a tragic accident that leads to that surprising result. Be careful what you wish for…

**A/N: Hello fellow readers! Thank you for clicking on this story. I am not new to the verse of writing, just new to this website. This story is a project I've been working on for a little while now. Recently a friend of mine introduced me to the Avatar universe (yes, I'm late, I know) and I got hooked. The storyline is just so touching and unique. We had a three day Avatar marathon where all we did was sleep over each other's houses, pig out on ice cream, and watch Avatar the Last Airbender. Afterwards, I felt inspired and looked more of it up and immediately found out that I support 'Kataang'. Being the creepily creative person I am, this story spawned from my inner imagination.**

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**Hit Me Again, I Dare You**

**Prologue**

"_Excessive fear is always powerless." — Aeschylus_

Its 4:00 in the morning on April 14, 2011 and Sokka was restless, so he stood alone on the tenth floor balcony of Roku Apartments gazing out at Roku Central Park and the statue of Roku, the city's founder, majestically looming in the middle of the luscious park.

He can't see the blooming cherry blossoms covering weeping trees in the park, or much of the darkened statue, but he knows they are there. The cherry blossoms are always there in the spring, blooming vividly with their glamor and beauty and being by admired by all who come to behold the perfection of the cherry blossom. He, Sokka Hamasaki, is envious.

When did his life come to… to this? This silent contemplation and meaningless examination that answers virtually nothing. He scans his brain for the answer, desperate to find one, but unable to find any. As always.

His life is nice, so he's been told. He's a twenty-nine year old world renowned scientist. His face has been, and still is, plastered on millions of billboards and magazines around the world (just not in a good way anymore). He donates money to people in need and regularly travels to those places to help out.

But yet, he's still wondering, what is he doing here? On a pleasant balmy night in the city, standing outside alone on the balcony of Roku Apartments, wondering what his life has come to, and why he's become a coward to the point that he is running away and his suitcases are all lined up by the door and ready to be tucked into the trunk of his car.

He wishes he could erase it all, going back to the day he was conceived and forced to live a life of judgment and ridicule. The words sound like those of a down heartened person, and perhaps that is what he has become.

Sokka wasn't always this way. But he doesn't want to answer the question as to why he's probably changed. His father's recent death has nothing to do with it, he tells himself, as many seem to conclude as to why he is so different than he used to be.

As a scientist that has extensively studied the human body, Sokka knows well the consequences of smoking. It doesn't stop him from striking a match and lighting up his cigar though. The light outlines the contour of his cheekbones, the roughness of his newly grown beard on a square-jaw, and nervous beady blue eyes.

He inhales the smoke and holds it. His eyes roll back in his head as enjoys the immediate relief that comes from that simple action. He lets some of the smoke out of his mouth and inhales it back in deeply through his nose. Slowly, he exhales all of the smoke from his mouth with a blissful sigh.

As he sinks deeper and deeper into the idyllic haze smoke has to offer, his mind evaporates from his head until all that is left is a gooey mess.

He doesn't think about his first conversation with the president that happened over a year ago. He doesn't think about how Ozai, the president, lied left and right in order to get what he wanted, and was willing to sacrifice anything to get it. He doesn't think about the move. He doesn't think about his mom, dad, or sister. He doesn't think about his fiancé calling the wedding off. He just doesn't think.

If only the realities of life were always this easy to pinch away.

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**January 14, 2010**

Sokka has been planning this day for most of his life. It's been a secret project of his, and the only people to know about it are his father and little sister. As one of the best scientists in the medical field, it is his responsibility to always look into the natural known world and find cures; he has taken this responsibility to the next level.

The biggest problem in the world is fear. People are mentally locked into their own minds, afraid of consequences of actions; afraid to jump the wagon because they might scratch their knee or break a leg. This is a problem, and a problem that Sokka is very familiar with. If it weren't for fear, his mother would be alive right now, because he would have saved her life when that man tried to carjack her.

He was afraid, so he did nothing.

He has now found the cure to fear, something that is extremely top secret and he cannot explain. This elimination of fear can also heal human ailments and other physical limitations. This new discovery is out of this world (literally) and can enhance things like eyesight, strength, mobility, the healing process, and hearing.

No fear opens up a whole new world.

Now all he needs is the president's permission for animal testing.

"Come in."

The deep voice made Sokka jump. He's never been face to face with the president before, and shivers run down his spine at the thought that he is actually going to do just that.

He takes a deep breath before pushing the double doors open and stepping inside the large oval office.

The carpet is blood red and the wood is all deep brown, so basically hellish kind of colors. He sidles up to a swivel chair positioned in front of the president.

The president is even more intimidating then Sokka imagined. And Sokka has a very vivid imagination. The man wreaks power in his Armani suit and white tie. His ebony black hair is slicked back with gel and his pale skin glows in the darkness of the oval office illuminated by a single light overhead. The only thing that shows signs of his impaling age are the crow feet ridged around his golden brown eyes and the deep smile lines outlining his tight closed lips.

"This could change the world Mr. Hamasaki," Ozai said, his deep voice dripping with confidence as he closed the manila folder containing some of Sokka's work.

Sokka loosened the tie around his neck that was suddenly compressing his throat. "I think it could be—" He cleared his throat, "definitely something worthwhile. And I was hoping we could um… test it."

Ozai looked unfazed by Sokka's nervousness and merely asked, "How soon?"

"That's for you to decide sir."

Ozai stood up from his chair and Sokka followed suit. "Test it on me tomorrow."

Sokka frowned and shook his head. "Sir, I can't do that. I was hoping we could find some animals—"

"I'm volunteering, am I not?" Ozai's tone threatened Sokka to disagree.

"You are," Sokka nodded amicably. "But sir, there are major risks here. And animal testing is a requirement for this kind of high level experimentation."

Ozai's calm façade broke. "I am dying," he stated bluntly. "I don't care about risks anymore."

"W-what?" Sokka spluttered with wide eyes, collapsing back into the chair and watching Ozai saunter the room with slow precise steps.

"Lung cancer," he clarified. "I was just diagnosed with stage four of lung cancer yesterday. I guess all those years of smoking have finally caught up to me." He laughed humorlessly.

Sokka gapes like a fish trying to take in water. "Sir… I am so sorry."

Ozai waved off his concern while gazing absently into the distance. "I ignored the signs, so now I am suffering for it. I don't have long to live. Two months at most. The public is going to find out in no time. My vice president is an imbecile and I just _can't_ die yet."

Sokka quietly watched Ozai with deep worry that only increased as the seconds drift by.

"I don't have anything left to live for. You must understand I'm a dying man. I'm looking death right in the face and waiting for it to devour me." Moist golden eyes met Sokka's youthful blue ones. "I have nothing left… and if you could save me. Please save me," he pleads.

Sokka can no longer look at the wrecked older man. The man who appears so strong in the public eye is so weak when it comes to the jaws of death. No fear would be a beautiful thing right now.

"I can't do that sir. There are too many risks. I'm sorry."

"At least think about it," Ozai said quickly. "Take some time to think about it, and please let me know tomorrow after you have sincerely thought about it. After all, I have nothing to lose."

* * *

Sokka was very tempted not to come into work the next day. His blue eyes were bloodshot red due to no sleep, and he could barely lift his feet much less manage to unlock the door to his office. The warm coffee cup in his hand is what reminded him that he was alive and not just living a horrible dream.

"Good morning."

"Mornin'," Sokka grumbled back, kicking the door to his office shut and going over to his desk. Taking a long sip of coffee, he sighed wistfully. Now he's ready to start his day. And that's when he notices Ozai.

"Mr. President Sir!" He jumped to attention and gave Ozai a strong handshake across his desk that is currently swamped with experiment recordings and hypothesis. "Good morning. How are you?"

Ozai didn't waste time on pleasantries. "Have you thought about it?"

Sokka almost laughed at the question because he had stayed up all night thinking about it. "Yes sir, I have," he said.

"And?" Ozai pressed.

"I refuse to do such an experiment on you. The risks are far too high."

Ozai growled. "I told you I—"

"But—" Sokka raised a finger to show he's not done. "—I _am_ willing to give you the test-tube for a singular person. All you have to do is inject it into your blood with a sterilized needle, and wait. That way the risks are all on you."

"Okay…" Ozai slowly nodded his head. "Okay. I could work with that."

"Good." Sokka smiled and reached into his desk drawer pulling out a test-tube containing some a white liquid. "Here it is," he said breathlessly, carefully handing the test-tube over to Ozai's eagerly waiting hands.

Sokka had no idea that he would regret this moment for the rest of his life. He had no idea that six months later he would have to leave the science center and never come back, ridding his existence in the scientific community in order to save his life. He had no idea that Ozai would hunt down his family and kill his father just for being related to Sokka. He had no idea that, three years later, he'd end up living with his little sister in their grandparent's old five acre ramshackle out in the abstract part of Roku and working at a coffee shop.

Sokka had no idea.

And if he could take it all back, he would in a heartbeat, because it is _always_ better to be safe than sorry even in the name of science.

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**A/N: Fret not! The story has just begun. Reviews, any kind, are **_**very**_** much appreciated and **_**very**_** much welcome. Let me know your thoughts, questions, ideas, and etc.! Don't be shy to let me know what you're thinking. Thank you for reading**


	2. Chapter One

**Summary:** Eventual Kataang. When Roku high school senior, Aang Sora, was a little boy he often dreamt of being a superhero. As he grows up, this dream becomes stronger but more unreachable. One day he ends up in a tragic accident that leads to that surprising result. Be careful what you wish for…

**A/N: Hellos! Thank you for clicking on this story, and thank you for your reviews. :) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters; I am just manipulating them to do my will.**

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**Hit Me Again, I Dare You**

**March 11, 2013 — Spring Break — Roku City**

"_The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don't have any." —Alice Walker_

When Aang was a little boy, he often dreamt of being a superhero. One of the cliché kinds with a long bellowing cape swishing behind him, and one who wore brightly colored underwear outside of their spandex, and one who flew above the streets of Roku City saving innocent bystanders lives and tossing criminals into jail like a person would shove a toy into the cramped space of an overstuffed box. It's times like these though, when the lunch rush is settling in and the smell of coffee wafted thickly through the air, that he realized he is not a superhero. He is just an ordinary high school guy, with prescription glasses way too big for his face, working at his Uncle's café.

Nothing super about that.

"Good afternoon and welcome to Momo's café, how may I help you?" It is a line well-rehearsed to the point where it is just automatic. He hears himself repeating these words in his dreams and nightmares alike.

A young woman, with blonde hair that highly resembles uncooked ramen noodles, put a red manicured finger up to her chin and glared down the static menu hanging behind Aang's head. Her hazel cat eyes narrowed as they drifted down towards Aang, sizing him up in a way that made him shift uncomfortably. "You might want to write this down," she husked.

"Oh, no worries ma'am." Aang tapped his work-cap and smiled. "I've got the best memory in all of Roku."

The woman scoffed at Aang's smugness. "We'll see about that," she muttered. "I want one Venti frappe, two pumps white mocha, extra foam, caramel drizzle on whip cream. Oh, and make it to-go."

Aang clenched his teeth into a gritty smile. He heard nothing past the word Venti. What the hell is a Venti? "Your order will be ready soon."

* * *

Stains are something ever present in Momo's café. Aang scrubbed a damp rag against a particularly nasty brown stain, his short fingernails trying to scratch it off of the marble countertop surface. It refused to budge. Laser vision would so come in handy right now. He could just squint his eyes and shoot the stain right off. Or melt it. Which would probably end up melting a chunk of the countertop off as well. Maybe laser vision isn't such a good idea...

"This is _not_ what I ordered!"

Somehow, whether it was the secret telepathy sense Aang was sure he had or maybe the fact that when fixing the woman's coffee he forgot the minor, eh, okay _most_, details, he knew that voice was directed at him. Jumping up to attention, Aang smoothed out his fearful expression as best he could and prepared for the hurricane.

The woman stomped up to Aang, her nostrils flaring and her chest heaving up and down. "You got my order all wrong." She shoved the cup into Aang's idle hand. "I want a refund, and I want one _now_."

Aang glanced down at the cup, his forehead creasing with worry lines. "I'm sorry ma'am, but there are no refunds." He looked back up at her with genuine regret in his dark brown eyes. "Maybe I could remake it, free of charge, and—"

"No," she snarled. "I don't want you touching my coffee _ever_ again. Never have I had something so revolting in my life! I am _done_ with this establishment." She huffed and stormed out of the café, the bells chiming loudly at the force she exhibited on her way out.

Aang glanced down at the coffee in his hand again. It couldn't be _that_ bad. Surely that woman was exaggerating. Bringing the Styrofoam cup up to his lips, he dubiously took a sip. Instantly he grabbed the sides of his stomach and spit the nasty warm brown liquid onto the floor. He wiped the corners of his mouth with a disgusted frown. Yeah, it was just that bad, and worst of all, he was going to have to clean up this mess.

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Katara gripped the steering wheel firmly; it was all she could do to stay awake at the moment. The road looked like a blob of dark grey under the warms glows of the setting sun as she drove through a neighborhood of century old Victorian houses with primp grass and swings, that made it look like something pulled out of the perfect 1940s family movie.

It had been a rough day at the doctor's office, people coming in over the silliest things and then blowing a casket when she refused to look further into the matter. She was new to the scene of nursing, and one of the youngest there. People don't trust her medical opinion. One man came in because ostensibly he had a ghastly allergic reaction to water that made his face swell. This man was later admitted to a mental clinic after trying to choke the living daylights out of Katara for telling him he was not allergic to water, and that his face was not swollen.

One of the things Katara enjoys most about nursing would be caring for children. Today, though, she dealt with so many kicking and screaming brats that her mind feels like it's bleeding out of her ears due to permanent nerve damage. One brat threw up on her, and Katara has the sneaking suspicion that he did it on purpose.

Her scrubs still smell like apple chunks and oatmeal. But not in the sweet, 'it's a beautiful morning', kind of way. More in the, 'I wanna rip my fucking nose off', kind of way.

What a wonderful day. She sighed, slowing at a red light and bringing the car to a gentle stop.

"Just a few seconds won't hurt, the roads clear anyway," she told herself, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back against the seat rest.

A cool breeze snaked through the open car windows, filling the air with the fresh scent of blooming cherry blossoms and maple trees. It was so serene, the smell of spring and early summer mixed together, and she'd never get enough. Katara smiled in her daze, wishing this moment could last forever.

A horn blew, shattering Katara's moment of peace and making her foot jerk on the gas pedal. Her car screeched and came to an abrupt stop with a thud as someone flew down the street. The car behind her went around her, the driver glaring at her through his window and flipping her the bird. Gee, where are all these friendly people coming from?

"OW!" A man yelled, grabbing his injured leg.

"_Shit_." Katara's eyes widened and she hopped out of her car to examine the scene. A furry, gangly, and rather ugly dog lay nearby a young man who was in serious pain. Blood seeped through his tan cargo pants.

Aang looked completely out of it. His short brown hair looked tousled, and his clothes stuck to him in perspiration like he'd just run a marathon. He was dropped to his knees, examining his injured leg. At least his glasses weren't damaged. Katara cautiously approached them.

A sickening feeling twisted Katara's gut at the sight of the distraught man. There was no proper apology for this, but she would definitely try. "Hey, I'm sorry about that. Are you okay?"

Aang's big brown eyes darted up to the stranger, sparkling with unshed tears but hidden by the glare of the sun on his glasses. He looked momentarily surprised to see her, but quickly masked his emotions. "Were you driving that car…?"

Katara took a small step back and bit the inside of her cheek. "I um… I—" She nodded. No need to hide now. "Yeah," she sighed.

Aang got up from his kneeling position, with serious struggle, and stared up at Katara with red rimmed eyes. He looked completely speechless. A lump formed in Katara's throat at the sight. "I think you broke my leg," he said, numbly.

"I'm so sorry," Katara whispered, already knowing those words would never be enough.

"What were you drunk or something?" Aang spat. "Or did you just escape some mental facility?"

Okay, that was just taking it too far. Katara placed both hands on her hips and narrowed her blue eyes at the young man. "Now _hold_ up a second. I'm sorry for hitting you, but that's no reason to—"

Aang grounded his teeth, his grey eyes turning two shades darker. "You ever heard of eyes? You should use them. They're for seeing you know."

Katara blinked, surprised. Oh no he _didn't_. She could easily point out the fact that he is the one wearing glasses right now, _not_ her. But then again… she isn't the one who got hit by a car. That probably shot brownie points into the sky for any argument.

Sparks ignited as they glared each other down, neither willing to give up. Only when Aang collapsed onto his ass in a whimpering mess of pain was Katara jolted back to harsh reality. This man was in pain, and she was the root cause of it.

Biting her lip, she bent over the man and tried to help him up. Aang retracted like she was poison. "Ow!" he hissed. "That hurts!"

Katara rolled her eyes. "I'm trying to _help_ you."

"Ha! I think you've done enough of _that_ today," Aang said flatly.

Katara rolled her eyes hard and chose to ignore his comment. Meanwhile, Aang started wondering if her eyes could permanently stay that way. "If we don't get you help soon, it's going to get infected."

"What do you know about infections?" Aang challenged.

Katara made a noise between a laugh, a cough, and a sneeze. It was rather unattractive. "A lot." This boy was really starting to get on her last nerves. But she couldn't just desert him because that would be inhuman. Wouldn't it? _Wouldn't it_?

…

Yeah...

Wrapping one arm around Aang's waist, Katara helped the boy limp to her car with a crazed dog watching her every move and trying to climb up her leg.

Like hell that was going to happen.

"You will be hearing from my lawyer," Aang groaned, glaring as Katara helped him lay down in the back seat. If only he could afford one, for now he'll just stick with intimidation.

"I'm sure I will."

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